


The Collective Noun of White Boys is Called a 'Podcast'

by thenewdarling



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewdarling/pseuds/thenewdarling
Summary: Podcast AU.I wrote this for @GlasgowFanfic Open Mic Night when we realised on Twitter that podcasts and fanfiction are two interests saturated with young white dudes and their “passions”Subtitle: "In which Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson Get Accidentally Locked In Their Tiny Recording Booth"
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Kudos: 43





	The Collective Noun of White Boys is Called a 'Podcast'

**Author's Note:**

> Posted with minimal editing - it's full of stage directions cos I didn't plan on anyone reading the actual prose. Soz!

It was getting close to midnight, and the energy in the room was starting to dip. 

Their idea for a two-man law student podcast in which they cracked wise about whatever was in class that week had seemed like a good idea, but they were struggling to fit it into their schedules. Also, it hurt morale that they’d discovered at least three other groups of men in their class had had the same idea.

But Foggy was bullish. “We just have to innovate. We iterate. We do the time. We’re hitting our grind, and-”

“Ok!” Matt laughed. This project truly seemed like Foggy’s baby, so he was happy to stay late at the recording booth, racking up yet another episode of their fledgling podcast - _Avocados at Law: Lawyer Bros_.

At any rate it was more productive than drinking.

Matt could feel himself starting to fall asleep in the comfy chair as Foggy wrapped up. “Thank you to our sponsors for this week, CircleSpace, TriangleSpace, and DodecahedronSpace. Please, God, sponsor us SquareSpace. We know you listen to us, why are you holding out on us? Until then, I’m Foggy-”

“- I’m Matt - “

“Goodnight folks.” And he slapped the button to end the recording. Matt, who did the editing, could hear where he would put the little stinger, making it sound a little weird that it wasn’t there.

Matt yawned. “I am plum tuckered. Let’s head home.”

“Your carriage awaits.” Foggy lifted his arm for Matt to hold, and they approached the door.

After a few seconds of Foggy wrestling with the door handle, Matt did that thing where he turns his ear towards the camera and the background blurs out, indicating to the viewer that he’s Even More Good Hearing Now. “The key’s in the keyhole on the other side of the door. It’s holding the tumblers shut.”

“Did Karen lock us in here?” He banged on the door. “Karen! Karen!” Karen Page was the person in charge of the recording studio, and their most ardent shipper.

“No use banging on the door, it’s a recording studio. It’s soundproof.” Matt ran his fingers over his watch. “She’s probably gone home for the night.”

“Well, what do we do? Are we trapped in here til she comes back in the morning?”

“Looks like it. That’s, what. Eight hours in a soundproof room?”

Foggy smiled devilishly. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking...?”

<long pause>

“Almost definitely not.”

“Eight hour MEGAPODCAST.”

“Ok, that’s not what I was thinking.”

“What else are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Sleep? Besides, I’m the one that has to edit these things.”

Foggy wasn’t listening anymore. “Think about it. Watch the Avocados slowly go mad as cabin fever sets in.”

Matt sighed, found his way back to the chair, sat down and promptly fell asleep.

<spongebob voice> Hour 1

“HELLLPP!!! Help!”

Matt stirred angrily. He’d been half-awake, half-asleep, listening to Foggy pace for half an hour, waiting for the inevitable outburst. It didn’t make it easier.

“Foggy, it’s 1 o clock in the morning. No one is coming. Just sit down and wait.”

“I’m so bored, Matt. I don’t even have my phone.”

“Who’s fault is that, Foggy? Who was the one who insisted we stop bringing  _ “distractions” _ into the recording booth? If we had our phones, we could call for help!”

“Right let’s not point fingers, Matt. This is no-one’s fault. No-one’s fault at all,” he said quickly. “Except maybe Karen’s. I could see it being Karen’s fault.”

“It’s probably because you won’t follow her back on Instagram.”

“I need to keep that follower count low! It’s you, my mother, Michelle Obama, and the One cute cat account.”

“Your mother doesn’t even post anything.”

“I know, but it makes me look humble.”

“And all I post is out-of-focus shitposts of my feet with my finger over the lens on purpose.”

“Art.” He nodded. “Dude I gotta get out of here. I’m gonna go mad. I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Matt sighed, leaned forward, and lifted the headphones off the stand. “Alright, let’s do it.”

<spongebob voice> Hour 2

“Welcome back listeners,” Foggy said, in his most serious newscaster voice. “You find the avocados in dire straits. We have been LOCKED in our recording booth. It’s been 36 hours -”

“It’s been 2 hours.”

“-We’re starving to death-”

“We had Taco Bell like, four hours ago.”

“This episode is brought to you by Casper mattresses, and MeUndies.”

“Oh shit really?” Matt said. “When did that happen?”

“It WILL happen, once we show them this killer episode. They love that stuff. This is like, the next Serial by This American Life.”

“Seems really boring so far. I’m excited to cut most of it out in post.”

“Don’t you dare. Not a second of it. We love our 8 hour podcast-a-thon, and MeUndies will too. You know, you so rarely think about the importance of the underwear you wear. MeUndies provides unparalleled comfort and support. It is like a bra, for your balls. And I need that kind of support in my life.”

“You know I actually subscribe to MeUndies?” Matt said.

“Really? Are they actually good?”

“Yeah they’re pretty good.” He shoogled in his seat. “I think I’m actually wearing them now…” And he flashed Foggy.

“Dude!” Foggy recoiled, then, peeked through his fingers. They were neon yellow, and Incredibly Tight.

“That’s right, listeners,” Matt said, rebuttoning himself. “Without MeUndies, my dick would look like an old iPhone cable. Like Foggy’s over there!”

The two of them whooped with laughter like chimpanzees.

<spongebob voice> Hour 4

“Y’know, what you have to keep in mind..” Matt said, adjusting his headphones. They were starting to get really uncomfortable. “It was 2003. Y’know? No one was woke.”

“God. Do you remember what life was like in 2003? All that leather and edginess?? Jennifer Garner? Ben Affleck??”

“What happened to Jennifer Garner?”

“She seems good! She was in Love Simon last year.”

“Ooh I liked that one!” Matt said, then his stomach rumbled. <stomach rumble noise>

There was a pause. Matt idly wondered if that had been loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

“We’re gonna die of starvation in here aren’t we,” Foggy said.

“Foggy, she’s going to be back in like 4 hours. We’re fi-” <stomach rumble noise> “Ignore that.”

“I can’t. And even if I could, I can’t ignore that we’re dying of sleep deprivation as well.”

“You know we could just sleep through this and wake up in four hours when-” Another stomach rumble. “Oh for God’s sake!” 

Then he went pale. “Oh my god. I just remembered.” He jumped out of his chair, and stormed two steps to the left to one of those filing cabinets. You know the ones that offices have that are always empty, or full of shit that people have forgotten about?

Rummaging in his pockets and getting his keys out, he singled out one of those tiny crappy ones you get with padlocks. He put it in the cabinet and opened the top drawer.

“What are you doing?” Foggy said.

“I’m hungry,” Matt said. Foggy looked over his shoulder. Matt was pulling up the bottom of the drawer’s base.

“Is that… a false floor?  _ Did you install a false floor into a drawer only you have the key to in our recording studio? _ ”

The bottom came up revealing… a treasure trove.

Foggy’s eyes sparkled. Transfixed. Like the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, or the hordes of El Dorado. So much food. All of it delicious. Chocolate bars, and packets of crisps, and biscuits and-

“What the hell dude??” He picked up a Tim Tam. “You got these imported? And you didn’t even tell me? You know I love these!”

“Not as much as I love them.”

“You have been hiding food from me? Like a squirrel??”

“I mean, that’s a very emotive way of putting it.”

Foggy faltered. “Is this because I made fun of how many snacks you eat?”

“Oh God no.” Matt said. “To be perfectly honest I forgot it was here.”

“You have a hidden Death Note compartment full of food,” Foggy said.

“Well, it started with just the Tim Tams. They’re so expensive and I didn’t want to share them so I found a place to hide them, and then I realised it was actually kind of useful.” He pulled a 2 litre of Mountain Dew out of the spacious compartment. “You know. Like once you make a cool secret desk compartment, you wanna use it for everything. Except then I forgot about it. Is everything still in date?”

Foggy looked at the back of a Hershey’s bar, and burst out laughing. “Dude, it literally expires in a week. What on  _ earth _ are the chances?”

“Thank you, past me. You were smarter than you knew.” Matt raised the 2L of Mountain Dew like a Viking goblet, and guzzled.

Foggy bit into the bar of chocolate. “Oh, sweet blood sugar.” He looked over at the recording setup. “Shit, I hope the mics picked that up from over there. That’s the most interesting thing that’s happened tonight.”

<spongebob voice> Hour 7

Lying, with empty wrappers all around their feet and on the desk, Foggy and Matt lay back in their chairs, staring up at the ceiling.

“Twenty nine minutes to go,” Matt said.

“I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like, Matt.”

“If we die…” Matt said. “I want you to know you were the best friend a guy could ask for.”

“God, my melodrama’s gotten to you too. Maybe we really are gonna die.”

“No one will ever listen to this podcast. We’ll die with 2000 subscribers and no one will ever hear this,” Matt said.

“And it’s all that dastardly Karen’s fault.” Foggy welled up.

“Oh, bro, don’t cry,” Matt said. “Don’t cry bro.”

Foggy burst into tears. “I’m sorry I think it’s all the sugar-”

“Bro if you cry I’m gonna cry!” Matt started fanning the tears back into his eyes.

Foggy sniffled. “Come here bro!” He held his arms out, and Matt climbed into his chair. “I’m so sorry bro! This was such a stupid idea! I got us both killed!”

“It’s not your fault! It’s not your fault!”

Meanwhile, outside, Karen Page swiped her key fob to let her into the building. 

“Hi!” she said to the receptionist, as she walked through. 

“Morning!” she nodded to the janitor who was mopping the corridor. 

She started brewing a coffee, put her bag down on the floor of her office, hung her jacket on the coat stand, and pulled out a Surface Laptop that was definitely not Product Placement!!! -  and put it right in the middle of her desk where everyone could see it.

For some reason, she sensed something was wrong. Or maybe right? Something was definitely happening. She stepped out of her office and approached the recording studio.

She’d left the key in….

She pulled it out, and opened the door to find Matt and Foggy kissing passionately on one of the recording chairs, surrounded by a billion sweetie wrappers.

They looked up as she entered, faces flush with emotion, Matt still resting his hands on the nape of Foggy’s neck.

“Leave us here,” Foggy said solemnly. “We don’t know how to live in the outside world anymore. We’re podcast folk now.”

  
  



End file.
